


… and the land is dark…

by Deborah Laymon (dejla)



Series: Mosaic [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23165476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dejla/pseuds/Deborah%20Laymon
Summary: A prologue to Mass Effect 2 -- What if the Alliance weren't so unaware of Shepard's potential death and possible survival?
Series: Mosaic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665193
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	… and the land is dark…

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: These are a collection of prologues, interstitial scenes, and epilogues around Mass Effect 1 and Mass Effect 2 which set up an AU for Mass Effect 3.

He lit another cigarette, put it down for a moment to sip the bourbon, then picked it up once more. By eye, he measured the amount left in his glass. Another fifteen minutes, he’d be through these reports, and he could hit the sack. In front of his chair, behind the many screens which fed him data, the surface of the orange-red sun roiled.

The QEC vibrated, breaking his concentration. The Illusive Man switched the screen to the ID on the call. He raised both eyebrows, then accepted the signal.

Neither he, nor the other man, said anything for ten seconds.

Harper took another hit off the cigarette. “You’re out of uniform, Admiral.” He wondered, not for the first time, whether it had ever occurred to the old man that he could have had that scar removed. Was it vanity to keep the scar or vanity to ignore it? Or could the old man really not care what impression it made?

Steven Hackett, in an open jacket of dark green and a grey stand-collared shirt, hands behind his back as if reviewing the troops, stood as straight as if he’d been bronzed. He nodded, once. “We’ve lost another colony in the Terminus Systems.”

“I’ve noticed. In fact –”

“Yes. I got your message.” Hackett shifted, then sat down.

Harper took another drag of the cigarette. He hadn’t noticed the chair. The old man was still compelling, even if he was getting past it. More grey than brown in that brush-cut hair now. “So? Is the Alliance doing anything about it?” He’d lost some of the advantage – hadn’t thought Hackett would trace the message to him. _A reminder not to get complacent._

“Short or long?”

“Let’s start with short, first.”

The Admiral leaned back and crossed his legs. “No.”

Harper nodded. “I thought they might not. What’s the long?”

“Sovereign and the geth played hell with the fleet. We’re rebuilding as fast as we can, moving our resources around. Parliament's increased our budget. Eden Prime and Feros were too close for them.”

Harper started to comment, but Hackett waved a hand and continued.

“The Terminus colonies don’t want Alliance interference – that’s why they’re out there. We didn’t even know they were gone until you passed it on. Yesterday we caught a transmission from Mjolnir. By the time we got a ship through the relay and to the colony, there was no one left.”

Harper tapped off the ash then laid the cigarette in the ash tray. Not fast enough again. He ground his teeth then gave up and asked. “What do you know about the missing?”

“Mjolnir had five thousand souls. Church of Light Eternal, breakaway fundamentalist mix of Christian and Norse mythology. Farmers, two large iridium quarries supported by Aristede Mining, and regular trade routes with Madzulo and Júhuā.”

“The first two missing colonies.”

Another nod from Hackett. _Never play poker with the old man._ “Ten thousand on Madzulo. They mine –” A pause. Hackett took a breath, then went on. “ _Mined_ helium-3 from two gas giants in the system. Júhuā grew tea and bottled native wines – luxury goods.”

“There’s a local insect analogous to silkworms,” Harper picked it up. “Thrives on the abundant forests, and produces fibers as strong as spider silk. It’s been a boon to armor manufacturers, I understand.” _Certainly been useful to the what my people wear under armor._ He drummed his nails on the chair arm. “Physical damage?”

“Buildings intact. Tools dropped where they were being used. Animals untouched. We rescued the animals, moved them to other colonies closer to the Traverse.”

Harper knew all that, but hearing it in the Admiral’s voice sharpened his sense that the patterns in the data meant Reapers, even if no one else could see it. “And you couldn’t push military intervention?”

“No.”

Well, the old man didn’t shy from the negatives. “Reasons?”

“The Council wants us out of the Terminus. If we start a war, it’s our ass on the line. Parliment's not ready to defy them yet.”

“And the Reapers?”

One eyebrow lifted. Now Hackett uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his clasped hands. “Surely you don’t believe the _rumors_ ,” he said, in a voice like a desert wind.

Harper let a bark of laughter escape. “So their heads are permanently inserted where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Geth, pirates, batarians—”

“I know the drill.”

“The Council sent Lieutenant Commander Shepard in to chase geth. The brass agreed with them.”

Harper stopped in the middle of knocking the ash off his cigarette. “She’s the only one who knows anything about the Reapers.” Acid bit into his gut.

The Admiral straightened. “We know what she can tell us. And she’s told us as much as she can.”

He lay the cigarette in the ashtray. “Not the memories from the beacon. Not the Cipher. Not the interface between her and the VI on Ilos. And she’s in the Terminus?”

“One frigate with the Tantalus drive. Slip in, slip out.” The expression on Hackett’s face punctuated that.

“Anderson doesn’t have any pull?”

“He’s on the Council, but we’re at the bottom of the ladder. The others don’t want to hear it.” Hackett stood, and clasped his hands behind his back. “Anderson told her it was a chance to find more evidence to convince the Council.”

Harper stood as well. He turned around to stare at the sun, then swung back. “They don’t want to be convinced. They’d rather have an enemy with a face, like the geth. The asari have legends. So do the turians. The salarians… not so much. They’re so short-lived they forget their legends too quickly.”

“Impending apocalypses with no visible proof don’t win support from governments.” Hackett shrugged one shoulder, and his voice dropped and went dry once more. “And it is possible Saren wanted to rule the galaxy with the geth.”

“If it’s not geth, you could lose Shepard.”

“If it _is_ geth, we could _still_ lose Shepard.”

“Shepard’s the best hope we have.”

The old man nodded.

The Illusive Man ground out the cigarette and swallowed the last of the bourbon in the glass. “I’ll keep an eye out. Good night, Steven.” As he reached for the disconnect, he heard Hackett’s rasp.

“Good night – Jack.”

 _The old bastard always gets the last word._ Harper stared at the smoke curling up from the ashtray. At least, Hackett had so far. Then he tapped the QEC and spoke to his VI. “Find Operative Lawson for me. Unless she’s being shot at, I need to see her here ASAP.”

Eva’s voice answered him. “Very good.”

He stubbed out the cigarette. “Wish you were here, Eva.”

“I am here, Jack.”

“I know,” he said to the VI. “I know.”


End file.
